Let Me Help You
by crowley-king-of-the-trunk
Summary: The boys are off on a hunt, but they don't want to leave you alone in your depressed state so they call on Crowley to look after you. WARNING: this story has self harm. DISCLAIMER: I don't own Supernatural or its characters.


Sam and Dean got a call from an old friend about a case a few states that had gotten out of hand. Naturally the boys were willing to help and currently packing in the library of the bunker.

"Dean, do you think it's a good idea to leave Y/N behind?" Sam asked. "It's not like her to sleep this much, let alone pass up on a case. I'm worried about her."

"Me too." Sam moved toward Dean and stuffed a few shirts into his bag. "What should we do? We both think she shouldn't be alone, but we need to help out on this case."

"One of us could stay behind?" Dean questioned.

"Dean, you know we can't. It'll be hard enough just the three of us."

"Then what, Sam?" Dean's frustration showing in his voice. "Call a babysitter? Oh yeah, that'd go over well." Dean pretended to talk on the phone, "Hello, yes. I was wondering if you could watch our adult friend in our secret underground bunker. Oh you will? Great, see you in an hour." Evan stared at Sam with the strongest 'are you serious' look.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's childish behavior. "Not quiet like that, but we could call someone."

"Who, Sammy? It's not like Cass is available and other than him the friends list is lacking." Dean shook his head and began packing more stuff into his bag.

"Well then who do you suggest?" Sam raised his voice slight, throwing up his arms.

"Crowley and her get quiet chummy?" Dean shrugs.

"No way!"

"What other option do we have, Sam!" Dean stared him down. Sam paced in place for a moment before giving in a pulling out his phone.

About an hour later Crowley appeared in the bunker and the boys were packed and loading the Impala.

"Just keep an eye on her. She's been sleeping most of the day. Oh and if she asks tell her that we'll be back in before a weeks up." Dean informed.

"You do realize I have better things to do than babysit." Crowley squinted his eyes at the older Winchester.

"Come on, Crowley. We both know that's not true." Dean said with a huff be forcing getting in the Impala and driving off with his brother.

Crowley entered back into the main part of the bunker. He wondered the halls slowly, taking his time to remember each passage and where it leads. Then he saw your door, it was cracked open, the light peaking into the room. Crowley pushed the door open to peak inside the darkness that consumed your room. He peered in to see your curled form under the blankets, fast asleep. Crowley entered your room, returning the door to its slightly cracked state before seeking a chair to sit in. He sat back in the chair hands in his lap as he watched you turn over and face him. Your arm feel from your body, dangling over the side of your bed. Crowley tilts his head, his eyes focusing on the exposed skin of your arm. When something catches his eye, he leans forward in his chair, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees. He squints his eyes in the darkness, the shapes becoming more clear, the thin darkened lines on your arm become more visible to him. Crowley's head sinks before he gets up and takes a new seat beside you, on the bed. He caresses your arm, rubbing his thumb sweetly over the faint scares.

"Why did you do this?" He whispers to himself, causing you to stir and open your eyes.

"Crowley?" You mumble in your half asleep state. "What's going on?" You start to sit up, pulling arm from his grasp.

"I could ask you the same thing. Why the hell are there scares on your arm?" It took you a moment to realize what he was referring to, but once you knew you covered up immediately.

"It's nothing, really. Just some scrapes from hunting."

"I highly doubt that." He snapped his fingers and the lights came on, blinding you. Crowley suddenly pulled the sheets from you, exposing your fresh cuts on the other arm. Shocked you reached for the sheet, but Crowley grabbed your shoulders.

"What are you doing to yourself?" Crowley's anger sowing clearly in his face as he shook you. "What is so bad that it warrants you hurting yourself?" You tried your best to avoid his sight.

You had kept this secret for years, not even the Winchesters knew. You felt so exposed, not because you were in your pajamas, but because Crowley saw the deepest darkest part of you in that moment. Tears welled in you eyes and you went limp in Crowley's grasp, giving into your feelings you sobbed uncontrollably. Crowley's grasp turned gentle and caring, pulling your to his chest. He rubbed your back soothing your sobs.

"Y/N?" He paused for a long while, pulling my chin so he could see my face. "Let me help you?" His voice was low and calm. Your nod was subtle, but he noticed, immediately he stood up and went to receive a clean clothe from the bathroom.

Crowley cleaned your fresh cuts and bandaging them. There was no talking between you two, the company he shared with you was comforting enough that the silence brought gave a sense of understanding. At the moment he finished he gave a heavy sigh and you knew he was going to say something and you feared what he say.

"Y/N, I understanding the despair you must feel, but this..." he holds my arms, "this is not necessary. I've been there and there are better ways than this to relieve the pain." He stands from the bed and walks toward the door, with his hand on the light switch he looks back at you. "If you feel like you're going to do this again, text me, call me, summon me if you have to, I want to help you through this." He flicks off the switch, "Now, get some rest."

"Crowley." You squeaked before he could close the door. He peered back into the room. "I'd feel better if you stayed with me." Crowley smiled and entered back into the room.

"Of course, love. I'll stay for as long as you need me."


End file.
